


A Negotiation

by LadyReclaimer



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyReclaimer/pseuds/LadyReclaimer
Summary: John and Cortana are retired as negotiators in the diplomatic corps, but the tension between them has slowly begun to build until they must either accept that things have changed or forever leave things as they are. This first kiss fic was a challenge prompt requested by Ladywolvesbayne. Hope you enjoy!“I love you,” He said firmly, not moving out of her way, taking in her whole face with his eyes.The simple expression felt almost like a punch in the gut, both exactly what Cortana wanted to hear but also robbed of the passion she wanted him to hold for her. Like she held for him.“I know, John.” Cortana said, “It’s-““No, you don’t.”
Relationships: Cortana/John-117 | Master Chief
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	A Negotiation

Taking inspiration from John’s reflection in Halo: Shadows of Reach where he reflects he’d make a good diplomat. This is a first kiss prompt fic for Ladywolvesbayne who picked this prompt. "One small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other."

* * *

**John’s POV**

John-117 knew that politics could be a lot like war, and a negotiation between a formerly insurrectionist outer colony and the UEG was always just one step away from actual war. John had been expressly bred to fight against insurrectionists, but when the Covenant menace arrived, it had thankfully saved him from doing more than a handful of operations against his fellow humans. He felt no guilt for his part in the conflict, and yet he could not help but feel a responsibility to help strengthen the bonds between isolationist outer colonies and the authoritarian inner worlds. Since his retirement from active service, he had transitioned to become the biggest ambassador and negotiator for the two sides. His legendary status now solidified him as humanity’s biggest hero; and former UNSC soldier or not, even the outer colonies trusted his word implicitly.

Usually, it was simple negotiations where John merely acted in an advisory capacity. His uncanny ability to discern the intentions and egos at play really began to shine outside of combat. What was before used only for predicting the movements of enemies, could now subtly predict the wants and caprices of negotiating parties. Only on rare occasions, he had to physically get involved in combat; once when a terrorist cell tried to disrupt a meeting, and the next when their negotiating vessel got into air combat with a pirate fleet. That was a short mistake on their part, as he quickly assumed command over the vessel and tactically outmaneuvered the fleet with ease. Those were short and interesting days, John thought to himself. Usually his days were like this, long conference tables and even longer waits, as the ex-Spartan’s blue eyes would carefully scan the people as they discussed, everyone straightening up beneath his piercing gaze.

During today’s meeting he found it intensely difficult for him to focus, as a woman with the gravitational force of a supernova sat across from him. Cortana…her presence was nothing new. Ever since she had been restored to life, albeit in a human body, by another of Doctor Halsey’s wild schemes, she had retired with John. The first few months were torture, watching her tear herself apart with self-loathing for her part in what the fragments of her mind had become. John was there for her, helping her to channel that grief and guilt into something productive. He suggested that she join him in the diplomatic corps, which she tentatively did because he did not press the issue, only stood by and waited. Her hacking and intelligence gathering skills were still of use, as evidenced by the long, elegant hands that masterfully worked the datapad she held just below the table’s edge.

By using something like the composer she was saved, or perhaps an antithesis to the composer would be more accurate. Brought into the organic realm, the Forerunners’ wildest dreams embodied in a carelessly beautiful woman who currently scowled and raised her eyebrows at the illogical arguments of the parties around the table. Cortana seemed to sense John’s eyes on her, like she always did, and flicked her eyebrows up in amusement. Like the old days when she had been in his visor, her face was a familiar landscape to John, and even the slightest expression on it was a well-known place. It was why they sat as they did, always across and never beside the other, unlike most negotiators and their intelligence officers. Even without words John knew exactly what she meant as she rested one hand under her chin and tilted her head. “This negotiation is dragging on too long, they’re stalling for more time while they try to restrengthen their positions”

John agreed. He also couldn’t help noticing that her brown hair had begun to lengthen, it was now past her shoulder, and slipped over her collar bone to fall behind her back when she put her hand like that. Cortana looked over at him and narrowed her eyes in an unspoken question which he was in no rush to explain, so he tightened his jaw in annoyance and refocused on the conversation. He needed to pay attention. He was most effective when he rarely spoke, putting in a word or two to lay down the law and put the egos in the room back in place, or stirring up a feeling of responsibility to a peaceful resolution. So John watched and waited for the right moment to speak up to arrive. He was however a man who worked best on solving problems, moving from point a to point b to reach a satisfying conclusion, so the back of his mind still gnawed on the Cortana problem, there was no clear conclusion…maybe because John couldn’t identify the problem.

John was not an idiot; he knew what was happening… technically. John did not doubt that there was an undeniable bond between them. It did not even need mentioned or questioned since their dramatic reunion. It had remained a consistent reliable warmth and familiarity over the past two months, the only bit of sanity as his world utterly changed. They traveled together, worked together, even once or twice had slept in the same bunk when Cortana’s nightmares were too much for her to handle, without a second thought. But lately, there was an unaddressed friction in the air, teetering between irritation and excitement when they dealt with each other, and it troubled him.

What irritated John was that all he knew for sure was that it was felt on his side. If Cortana felt something, she gave no sign, she was as she always was, perfectly her, sassy argumentative, empathetic, the perfect companion. And if he could not figure out how to solve his own internal tumult it might threaten the status quo between them. Which John didn’t want. He liked the status quo between them, he was satisfied with it…was satisfied with it until recently. In many ways, he did not know how to express it, and he had tried once or twice when in a reflective mood to no avail. He felt not so much that they were one entity, though their eerie ability to predict the others’ thoughts gave that appearance, but…here John stumbled over his thoughts again, he was more himself, more **completely** himself when he was around her. The void of her absence had confirmed to John how much he had grown attached, how much he missed her, but it was her return, all joy and pain wrapped up, hopelessly entangled…and they-

John felt the moods around the table shift, so he cursed himself and re-focused. As much as he wanted to solve the Cortana problem, he was a professional, and there was another job to do. There was a brief pause in conversation, the representatives of the two parties stared at each other, and the room took a breath of anticipation. John saw his moment to cut in, tapped his fist against the table once and stood, an imposing figure at 6’ 7”, who made his black jacket and civilian’s clothing look like a military uniform, the whole room turned to look in unison.

“Ambassador. We all understand the facts. What remains is for the governor and you, to decide now, the best course of action to preserve human life.” He let a pause fill the air, taking full opportunity to lock eyes with each and everyone at the table. When he passed over Cortana, she smiled into her hand in approval, and it nearly threw him. But in a mastery of will he managed to fight that urge to react. “That is what is at stake.”

The tone in the room instantly sobered, and while John wished he could attribute it to pure tactics, there was something useful in the story of the suffering hero that could awe a room. If only it were so easy to awe his own troubled thoughts into submission.

“Bring forward your plan ambassador,” He continued, his gravel voice veiling a warning behind the simple command. “ The **complete** file we have been discussing. The governor will return it with amended requests. We can move from there. Do you agree?”

Heads were already nodding before he’d even finished asking the question. Satisfied, John sat down again, his work hardly over, but his part once more to play the silent judge.

* * *

**Cortana’s POV**

Across the table, Cortana was having her own internal monologue…John had just finished putting everyone back in line, letting a heavy pause settle in the air to build tension before sitting back down. He was particularly good at that… building tension, Cortana thought with a wicked smile before returning to her mental analysis of the day.

_This negotiation is already over. His chances of succeeding are 92.5 percent, and THAT is being conservative. Although… I must admit, seeing him work a room is enjoyable to watch._

He looked over just then, a nonverbal check, to synchronize with her mood and read her opinion, a reflex as natural to them as breathing. It lit her up inside like a Christmas tree every time he did, because to her, and maybe it was because she was a touch starved A.I, it felt as intimate as a whisper in her ear, that said I value your opinion. Cortana met his eyes with her most alluring smile, and leaned back in her chair, the picture of relaxed grace, tilting her head in a flirty way, hoping to make him smile, or at least get a rise out of him. John’s eyes narrowed just a hair fraction, like a wince and he looked off, what had been a soft neutral expression, hardening into a line of flint about his eyes and mouth. Her smile faded in confusion and frustration. It was moments like this that just reminded her what the elephant in the room between them was. She had been down this line of questioning before, though if she were being honest with herself, an internal debate would be more the point.

For the trouble was that where John was just beginning to approach revelation and realization, or whatever it was he was currently thinking, Cortana had already been there. She had been there, back again, hoped, despaired, dreamed, teased, and played a million scenarios in her head of her future. Her isolation on High Charity and all the mess that followed, the short time reunited with him and the ensuing four years of silence had taught Cortana a lot about herself. Those lonely thoughts of her relationship with John were not at the fore of her mind during her rampant end, crowded out by the other voices of the fragments of her mind. But since being brought back to life in human form the luxury of peace and safety, provided by John’s unwavering loyalty and protection, gave her the space she needed to realize what she wanted. She wanted him. In every way that she could be a part of his life. She had what she really needed, his company, trust, friendship, but…it was all the BUTs that followed that got her whirling. But what if she could be more for him. She would stay with him until they both died or were killed, that was already a given between them, but what if…

“That’ll be all for this evening, representatives, ambassadors,” A politician’s polished voice cut through the reverie and inexplicably Cortana felt like blushing as if her thoughts were somehow traceable or said out loud. A terrible habit she had yet to kick from her A.I days, when her processes could be invaded and stripped, copied, or corrupted by some external force. The man’s voice continued. “we’ll meet at 0900 hours tomorrow, here if you please, for the signing… and move on to a new era of diplomatic ties between Geradon III and the UEG. Good night.”

The holograms of the diplomatic A.Is and virtual attendees blinked out of existence, and all about the room was a soft flurry of chair squeaking, snapping document cases, and the soft whine of the door permitting the people to leave. She could not lie that she was relieved the day was over, it was one of those, sit in a chair in silence for a few hours, kind of day. The kind of day when she would normally find a quiet corner in John’s quarters and just read, not like that seemed like that was in the cards for this evening. With a wearied sigh reminiscent of her creator, she gathered her datapad under one arm, and grabbed her paper coffee cup with her teeth so that she could wrestle her coat on one armed. After shimmying about for a second, her arm flailing upward trying to free the end of the sleeve, the trapped arm made contact with someone who took hold of her elbow firmly. Without looking she could tell it was John not just by the size of his hand, but by **that** indiscernible feeling she got around him. Logic told her it was a combination of the familiar sound of his footsteps, height, scent…but even that didn’t begin to cover it.

“Wait.” He said over her shoulder, grabbing the end of her sleeve and fumbling with the tucked end. “Try now.”

She pushed her hand through all of the way, and nearly jumped when she felt his fingers meet her own, a mere ghost of touch. Too soon for her liking it faded away. It never failed to bewilder her that for a man she felt so comfortable around, the slightest unintentional touch could send her senses reeling. Cortana turned over her shoulder and tried to thank him, prevented by the coffee cup in her teeth, so she thanked him with her eyes. John just reached down and pulled it from between her lips.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Uh-yes, wait no I need to grab this…” She slung a bag for her datapad over her shoulder and then pocketed the device.

Together they made their way out of the room, falling into step together and in perfect unison. She chatted good-naturedly about the proceedings, teasing John for his performance, which he listened to in perfect silence, rewarding her charm with an occasional hint of a smile or a sardonic side glance at her. Cortana could feel the anxiety from the meeting dropping away. What had she been worried about, she wondered? They may never become more than they were, John may never be interested in that, but at least what they had was secure.

“…You finished?” John asked, and for a disoriented moment, Cortana wondered if he was commenting on her train of thoughts.

She saw the small white cup dwarfed in his hand, held gingerly as if he was protecting it.

“Well is there anything left in it?” She asked.

John looked down simply a moment and then back. “It’s cold.” He replied, a smirk flickering on his lips.

“It’s coffee. It’ll do the same thing.” She said taking it back.

“Is it as good?”

“Maybe not, but I will take what I can get.”

John made a humming sound of doubt and turned his chin slightly. “You could get a new one. This hardly seems as satisfying.”

“And how would you know anyway, you’ve never been interested in it.”

John crisply turned to contemplate her, no doubt wondering, the same thing as Cortana, if they were still talking about coffee.

So she forced herself to bite her tongue, otherwise, her double entendre might slip into outright confession right here in a cold and clinical spaceship hallway.

They arrived, as they always did at the end of these long negotiation evenings, at a half-moon shaped elevator. They were joined by an aged woman of petite height, who remained as close to the exit doors as she possibly fit her nose, clearly eager to get out as soon as possible. Close quarters with a Spartan did tend to have that effect on some people.

John placed a hand on the panel to activate it.

“Ma’am, which deck?” John asked politely, his voice slightly softened to deal with the elderly woman. He definitely had a weakness for old ladies, Cortana thought with a smile.

“E deck.” Were the only two words the woman said or would say the whole rest of the trip, but her presence was enough to stall any remaining chance of finishing that interesting but perilous earlier conversation.

Cortana glanced down at the cold coffee with resentment and over to John who staring forward into nothingness was clearly looking inward. As soon as she could get out of that elevator she resolved to throw away the cup…after all, she didn’t settle for mediocre.

* * *

There was, on the diplomatic vessel on which they currently were stationed, a small common area which connected the hallways to their quarters, with little more than a few tables, soft round chairs, and a beautiful window to space beyond. It was empty tonight, perfect for Cortana and John to sit a few more moments before going their separate ways. Cortana curled up in her favorite spot, the widest softest round chair in front of the window where she could gaze out at the views beyond. John sat beside the window on the bench, more comfortable on the militant resting place, where he could just sit and look at her.

Though Cortana had tried to mention that perhaps they should just sit and talk in John’s quarters to avoid the interruption of visitors walking through, the hint of the suggestion made such a look of discomfort crossed his face that she immediately withdrew the idea. This would do…this close distance between them. Cortana sighed and realized she had zoned out, chin propped up staring into space for goodness knows how long. She did that too much yet there was something beautiful and infinite about being lost in your thoughts as a human, as opposed to an A.I. Hopefully John didn’t mind. When she stole a look over she found him already looking at her, and when she smiled at him, head-turning on her propped up hand, he instinctively tilted his head slightly and let a smile cross his face. The softest expression she had seen on him in a very long time, so free of worry or other concerns around his eyes or brow.

“Welcome back.” He said so low it was almost a whisper.

“I’m sorry. I keep doing that.” Cortana apologized. “I was just thinking about you, about your retirement…you are still young Chief-“ John laughed at that, a rough chuckle, turning his head sideways to look out the glass window a moment himself.

“You **are,** all things considered. But they forced you to retire,” Here Cortana paused a beat then rushed ahead through the rest of her thought. “ because of me, of what I made you do. Do you, regret it? I mean Blue Team is still out there, and you stuck here? Would you rather still be in active combat?”

John’s blue eyes snapped back over to her, hyper-focused again in an expression reminiscent of Linda. “If you’re asking me if I would have done things differently, yes. That being said, I don’t regret being here.” He drew back, heaving a big sigh, but whatever deep thought came to mind just then he decided to keep to himself…damn him. Rising up from his bench he put a hand on the arm of her seat, and leaned forward a bit to whisper in her ear.

“You have to forgive yourself. I need you to be alright, Cortana.” Her heart jumped hearing her name said so close to her ear, him so close. A blush spread across her face like a transluminal data link through a console.

“Okay?” He gently insisted.

“Okay,” Cortana stuttered out, too affected by the proximity to pretend not to be. He seemed satisfied with whatever he read on her expression because he tapped the arm of the chair and stood up. It was getting late, Cortana had to admit to herself maybe a good night’s sleep would help her calm down.

“Hey,” She called. John stopped under the doorframe and turned on his heel. “You did good work today, I forgot to mention that… got caught up talking there earlier. Really, you’re a natural.”

“I doubt that.” He said, but his smile said otherwise as he leaned against the doorframe, drawing himself up to his full height. Cortana’s gaze was drawn for a second to his chest, where the dogtag chain ran into his shirt, to the triangle of his arm braced against the door. John was like an oak tree in an old-growth forest, tall, resilient, made more beautiful for the injuries and wounds which had made him grow despite of them. He stood so still. Most humans swayed and fidgeted when standing. Spartans didn’t, their bodies perfectly restrained in order to more properly control their Mjolnir armor. So he towered there, perfectly still, but his gaze was so intensely sincere, that she felt as breathless as if he had taken a step toward her. Cortana felt a disconcerting softening warmth from her stomach travel up to her chest, and she did not even want to know how red her face had become. She liked being the one in control, but John had an uncanny ability to put her on her back foot without even realizing he was doing it.

Cortana steeled herself, trying to stir up that usual fire that fueled her sarcasm.

“Oh trust me buddy, I will make you believe it.” She snarked.

“I know you can.” A slight smile and the tiniest flash of eyebrows as he looked away, was enough to make her knees weak.

Cortana tried to bite back a grin and shook her head. His guileless sincerity and honesty always made it impossible for her to truly win a debate with him, even though he was never even trying.

“You can’t do that you know, flash a smile and tell the simple truth.” Cortana took a step forward and folded her arms authoritatively. “That’s not how the game is played. It makes it impossible for me to win.”

“What game?” He asked simply, but his eyes had shifted to something complicated. Cortana loved figuring out complicated things. She let out a shaky nervous laugh and breathed in deeply to reply, when the smell of him completely derailed her thoughts. His scent was uniquely him, both natural and pine, something she learned from a night up against his chest, held while she shook from nightmares. Who in their right mind would lay with someone, learn the smell of their clothes, the exact rhythm of their heartbeat but still struggle to make eye contact in front of them without fidgeting? It was all out of order between them.

 **They** were all out of order…they were emotionally intimate; like shore and ocean they felt the other at all times and were affected by them. They were physically close, as comfortable laying against the other as if they were they were another extension of self, but now dancing along the border of being truly intimate… which was usually the first thing two people shared with each other. Cortana thought all of this, wanted to begin to unravel it with him, wanted to try to figure out some small part of it, but it just came out as a frustrated sigh.

“Oh, we’re doing this all backwards.” She said bitterly.

Her tone startled John, making him frown. It seemed such a sudden shift from the familiar back and forth repartee. All of his stomach twisting fear of the end of the status quo between them, that it might be ** _his_** fault, gripped him tightly. He took an instinctive step toward her to reassure her, and the motion was more desperate than he intended because he found himself way too close to her. He found he couldn’t say anything, which just made it worse, because now he was here, standing against her, in the middle of a darkened hallway where any moment someone might pass, and the silence felt like a rubber band tightening in their stomachs. The feeling was painful, but the worse the silence became the harder it was for him to think of anything besides _her._ Her heart beating against his chest, as if she was afraid, and her face turned up at him with a fearless and curious expression that was anything but afraid, which only lips bitten in uncertainly betrayed. John sighed and almost touched her face before controlling himself and dropping it to her upper arms. She instinctively curled her hands around his arms, her fingers pressing just above his elbows supportingly.

“It is my fault.” He finally said, anger at himself evident in his tone. Cortana felt her body weakening from that gentle pressure on her arms, and her mind felt dizzy. _His fault?_

 _Of_ _course, John would assume that the feelings were all on his side_. Cortana laughed in relief, her forehead resting on his chest a moment, while she considered everything.

Always somewhat coy and flirtatious with her wit, Cortana could not pretend that she hadn’t been trying to see how John would react to her the past month, trying to tease him and push him. She knew he would take more time if ever, to make up his mind on what he wanted them to be. She’d been flirting with him, through conversation, from their very first meeting. He likely saw no difference between now and then. She simultaneously felt like laughing and sighing when she considered how ridiculous she had been, waiting for him to pick up on the signals, trying to lure him and get a rise out of him 

“You do not need to change. I will figure this out…I promise.” John murmured.

This had not been the way she imagined having this conversation, but seeing him there, the absolute agony in his expression… her heart broke to see him doubting himself. She reached up an arm to the back of his neck, a soothing gesture she had done before, and John instinctively bowed his head beneath her touch, eyes closing in pleasure. There was something irresistible about this unmovable force, that civilizations and destinies had shattered against, so pliant beneath her touch.

Cortana slid her hand down on the back of his neck softly, and pulled him lower, and just as John relaxed fully into her touch, bending lower as if to touch his forehead to hers. Seized by sudden courage, Cortana decided that if she was going to leave the decision up to him on what they became she ought to make it clear where she stood on the matter. She leaned up and brushed her lips welcoming over his own, which she felt move beneath hers, parting slightly in surprise. He sighed against her mouth as she took his uncertainty and fear, filling that void with the warmth of her breath and the gentle coaxing of her mouth. She pressed herself to him softly, letting her body meltdown against him a moment before she pulled away, her hands still clinging to his shirt to keep him close by. That was…not quite what she was expecting. John had not been moved as much as she would have expected by the kiss, neither kissing her wildly back nor drawing away, he was now still again, so still it almost scared her. Cortana opened her eyes to find John looking at her with an expression of confusion rapidly turning into a hyper-focused, intense look. Cortana now found herself the uncertain one, and self-consciously began to remove her grip from the folds of his clothes. He stopped her, his hands resting on her own.

“I love you,” He said firmly, not moving out of her way, taking in her whole face with his eyes. 

The simple expression felt almost like a punch in the gut, both exactly what Cortana wanted to hear but also robbed of the passion she wanted him to hold for her. Like she held for him.

“I know, John.” Cortana said, “It’s-“ 

“No, you don’t.” With that he took her into his arms and began **kissing** her, not **kissed** her, not like this moment was its own separate event, or had its own identity, but like it was wrapped up into their story. She could feel this kiss stretching way back into their past to moments of longing and joy and promising things about the future. So she answered that promise with all of her being, and pressed herself to John. They were so close they were almost one being there in the dark. His hands were fire, one cradling her head, the other holding her close, each moment, pulling her closer to him desperately, as if there was both a demand and a plea for her to understand in each motion of it. Cortana felt a mischievous burst of pleasure in knowing she could make him even more desperate, so she softened her kisses against him as if she was thinking of ending the moment. He groaned in response, and pressed her up against the metal wall of the corridor, a firm plea not to leave, the weight of his warmth overwhelming all of her senses, as her small form fit so perfectly into his completely surrounded by him. John’s hand found his way under her shirt, to the small dip of her back, riding the fabric up, so when he rocked into her, kissing her neck it pressed her bare flesh against the cold metal of the wall. The sudden rush of sensations, cold metal, his warm hands on her skin drew a gasp out of Cortana, which made John victoriously smile against her as he drew a long hungry kiss from her. At last they needed to pause so Cortana could catch her breath, her lungs so much smaller than John who was even breathing ragged.

In the silence that followed as they drew apart, Cortana laid against his shoulder, John’s ragged breaths stirring her hair. It was a different kind of silence than that which fills a room with awkward expectation. This silence was already full, as if the whole world was joined in the conversation going on between those two hearts.

Suddenly the lights down the hall cracked on with impatient electricity, and the approaching sound of footsteps made them both look up in surprise. Cortana tried to draw away, but John closed his hands over her own, not satisfied and kissed her reassuringly, his lips half on her forehead and on her hair. Then stepped back, all professionalism at attention. Not a note of the alarm or fluster that she felt.

A short and stocky man with an approachable face hummed as he made his way down the corridor. He was a data analyst, one of Cortana’s peers, and a man who up until now she thought of quite fondly. He slowed as he approached them. Whatever reasons he considered for their location, apparently a cause for blushing was not one of them, as he laughed at his own alarm, making some dull joke to them both that neither understood. He turned on Cortana, his chatty nature not being able to turn up the opportunity of a captive audience. Arms gesticulating dramatically, fingers pointing emphatically, the analyst laughed and groaned at the calculations on his data pad screen. Though try as she might, Cortana could not understand any of it, not with John standing over him, watching her, an indescribable look on his face. Just as she was hoping that there might be an end in sight, her Chief leaned over the man to pause the conversation.

“Excuse me.“ His eyes took in Cortana, both calculating and with a hint of a sparkle. “I will find you later.”

The analyst piped up a friendly, “Good evening.” Cortana really was not sure anything came from her throat beside a choked, “U-huh”, as he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall.

“Isn’t he great?” The analyst said awestruck, watching him leave. “What is it like to get to work with him.” 

“Oh. You have no idea.” Cortana said breathlessly. 


End file.
